


Come Back to Me

by Anonymous



Category: Ragnatela
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Grief/Mourning, Loss of Parent(s), Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:49:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27159571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Bonus Chapter of Once Upon a Dream. Takes place between Chapter 3 and Chapter 4
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3
Collections: Anonymous Fics





	Come Back to Me

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to include this, but I didn't think it was needed.

Planning a funeral was a lot of work, Marilyn found out. The Marks’ took on the responsibility of planning the funeral, and while Marilyn thought she’d be spared the pain of deciding what box Mama should rot in, she wasn’t. Mr. Marks was busy doing Pastor things, which meant that Marilyn had to accompany Mrs. Marks everywhere. The coffin shop was the worst because she had to overhear the conversations about fitting her Mama’s body in a wooden box. “It has a nice white plush interior and is quite spacious, so there will be plenty of room,” the salesman said in a tone much more suited for selling a car than a casket.

“Why does that matter? She won’t be moving,” Marilyn said bluntly and morosely.

The salesman and Mrs. Marks looked at her with a shocked expression that immediately turned into an uncomfortable one. Marilyn barely registered that she had said it aloud before Mrs. Marks quickly added, “It’s beautiful and will suit our needs perfectly. You can send the invoice to my husband. Thank you!”

Mrs. Marks quickly, but gently, took hold of Marilyn’s hand and ushered her out the front door leaving the exit bells ringing behind them. The fall breeze made Mrs. Marks clutch her hat to her head and made Marilyn’s curls fly into her eyes, making her depend on Mrs. Marks to guide her away from obstacles in their path. Usually, when Mama ushered her out of the store quickly, it was because Marilyn embarrassed her which she’d atone for by receiving several smacks on her rear. This made her assume she’d be receiving the same treatment, so in the time-old act of self-preservation she thought it wise to apologize for whatever Mrs. Marks had thought she had done wrong, “I’m sorry.”

_It’s important to say “I’m sorry” clearly. That way you didn’t have to say it twice. If you have to say it again, people are less likely to forgive you and you get punished._ Mrs. Marks looked down at the little girl, whose soft green eyes stared at her nervously, “What for?”

_It’s important to say what you’re sorry for. Missing this part is even worse than not saying it loudly or clearly enough the first time._ Marilyn could feel her heart beat faster, “For…I’m sorry for embarrassing you in the store,” she said and added, “In front of the man.”

“How did you embarrass me?” she asked softly.

_God, why is she making this so hard?!_ “I’m just…” Marilyn’s lip started to wobble and then came the crocodile tears, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

Mrs. Marks stopped walking and kneeled down in front of the crying child. She brushed the blonde curls out of her eyes, ignoring the child’s flinch, and held them in place beside her head to keep the wind from blinding her. “Sweetheart, I’m confused. You did nothing to embarrass me or make me upset. Why do you think you did?” she asked in a soft motherly tone.

Marilyn tried to speak between gasps, “Because…because you…you looked upset” she gasped and hiccuped, “And then you pulled me out of the store. I’m…I’m so sorry.”

“Oh sweetie, I wanted to leave because it looked like it was too difficult for you to be there. It was my mistake to bring you. _I’m_ sorry Marilyn,” she said as she kissed her on the forehead.

Marilyn’s cries grew softer. **_She_** _apologized to_ ** _me_** _! She’s an adult._ Mama used to say, _“Adults don’t apologize to children.”_

_Maybe that was just Mama though_ …Either way, the gesture touched Marilyn in a way that she couldn’t understand. Mrs. Marks picked up the confused little girl and placed her on her hip. Marilyn didn’t like it when strange adults picked her up without asking, but she didn’t feel much like walking so she allowed it without protest. “I think we should get some ice cream, hm? Does that sound nice?” Mrs. Marks asked with a smile, her eyes glittering warmly.

_It_ ** _does_** _sound nice,_ Marilyn thought, _but Mama never did that for me so I shouldn’t allow someone else do it._ Marilyn shook her head, causing Mrs. Marks to frown at her response. “Oh…okay then.”

She readjusted her and started to walk in the opposite direction of the ice cream parlor before Marilyn decided against her stupidity. _You're not supposed to turn down free things._ She urgently called out, “Wait never mind!”

Mrs. Marks let out a delighted laugh and looked at her with a smile that Mama could never have mustered herself. “Alrighty then, let’s go!”

Marilyn let Mrs. Marks lead the conversation, which she was quite good at doing since she was so animated. Mrs. Marks ordered vanilla ice cream with a ton of toppings and let Marilyn order chocolate ice cream with hot chocolate fudge and chocolate sprinkles with whipped cream. Marilyn thought Mrs. Marks did a good job of hiding her anxiety over the cavity-inducing snack and didn’t criticize her once. The woman seemed content with Marilyn making a mess on her face, just so she could wipe it off in such a mothering gesture. On their way home, Marilyn thought of how often Mrs. Marks would take the chance to touch her and hold her.

_It’s really nice to be hugged, and snuggled, and kissed on the head_. _I just wish Mama was here to do it_.

When they got home, Mrs. Marks started making dinner and sent Marilyn into the living room to play with her dolls. She’d call her to dinner soon, not that Marilyn felt that hungry after having her ice cream. Still, she knew she’d be expected to sit down with the Marks’ and say grace. _Mama never made me._

Marilyn didn’t particularly like all of the praying she had to do. She had to do it when she woke up, before she ate, before she went to bed, and then in-between. Mama believed in God, but she never made her pray as much as the Marks’ did. _And what am I praying for? Mama’s gone and she can’t come back. That’s the only prayer I want answered_. Her face was in a thoughtful pout as she held her half-clothed barbie in her hand, _If You can perform miracles, why won’t you send Mommy back? Why-_ Her blasphemous thoughts were interrupted when the Pastor entered the home, calling out his arrival with the “as seen on tv”, “Honey, I’m home!”

Mrs. Marks peaked her head out and smiled at her husband. Marilyn went on to ignore them and resume playing with her dolls, only listening to bits of their conversation until she heard her name being said quietly which made her listen intently. “I just don’t think it’s appropriate to bring her anymore. A child shouldn’t have to plan her mother’s funeral.” Mrs. Marks whispered.

_Whispered…I can do better than that._ “What else has to be done?” the Pastor asked.

“Just the flowers,” she said which made Marilyn roll her eyes.

“Mama hates flowers,” she whispered.

_The smell made her sick._ She remembered a time that she brought a bouquet she picked home and Mama took one whiff and fled to the sink and vomited. Mama then locked herself in her room for the rest of the day, leaving Marilyn to fend for herself. _Mama wouldn’t want flowers at her funeral._ When she tried voicing her thoughts to the adults, they said it would be "disrespectful to the dead" _-as if they had any respect for her when she was alive-_ to not include a floral arrangement. After that, she stopped offering her opinion on funeral matters _._

"I'll take care of the rest," she heard the Pastor say.

It wasn't long after until Mrs. Marks called them to dinner. Marilyn helped her set the table after she washed her hands. _Mama never made me._ There were so many new things she had to learn now that she lived with the Marks'. Apparently, you were supposed to say a prayer before you ate a meal, which made it embarrassing when she had dinner with the Marks' for the first time, and she didn't know what to do or say. It just felt like another way to embarrass and dishonor Mama after she died. She glowered, _I know they don't like Mama._ Marilyn slept her hand into Mrs. Marks' warm and soft one as the Pastor recited the prayer, "Come, Lord Jesus, be our Guest, and let Thy gifts to us be blessed. Amen."

“Amen,” she and Mrs. Marks mumbled.

Marilyn waited until Mrs. Marks ate first. She was always self-conscious about whether she was eating too soon or if she had to wait for another prayer. The couple began animatedly talking about their day as Marilyn just sat and ate her food contentedly. Occasionally she'd listen in on the drama and turmoils of the churchgoers. Apparently, a man loved someone else who wasn't his wife. Tomorrow at church, she'd have to see if she could spot him. She grinned mischievously, _I bet it's Mr. Watts...he looks like a slimeball._ "Marilyn?" the Pastor repeated clearly.

She gave him a 'deer in the headlights' look that easily revealed she wasn't paying attention. With an embarrassed blush, she responded with a small and quiet "Hm?"

"I asked how your day was. Did you have a good one?" he asked gently.

Marilyn stuck out her lower lip and frowned, "We picked out Mama’s coffin,” she said bluntly, trying to ignore the pressure that was growing in her chest before adding in a cheerier tone, "But then we got ice cream _before_ dinner!"

The cheerfulness in her voice sounded foreign to her, but she ignored it for the sake of keeping the stew in her stomach. "Oh," Mr. Marks stuttered, "What type of ice cream?"

"I got chocolate! With chocolate sprinkles and chocolate sauce. And whipped cream!" Marilyn smiled, putting her fork down.

"That sounds great!" he said before turning to his wife and with a small playful frown, "And you didn't get any for me?"

"Sorry dear, but no," she said before smirking, "Maybe you'll get a different treat later tonight though."

Mr. Marks choked on his water, sputtering it out as he coughed, "Emilie!" 

"Ooh, can I have one too?" Marilyn asked animatedly.

Mrs. Marks' playful smile turned into a mortified frown as if she just remembered Marilyn was there and had heard something she wasn't supposed to hear. "Oh...um no dear. You already had your dessert and it's nearly bedtime, so no. Tomorrow, we can bake cookies after church though," she said quickly, "Does that sound fun?"

Mr. Marks regained his composure after another sip of water, "Oh that'd be fantastic! We can make it a Sunday family tradition."

_I already have a family..._ She tried to think of something special she and Mama did but nothing came to mind. _You don't need traditions to be a family,_ she thought bitterly. _God, they really aren't trying to hide the fact that they already think that they are my new parents_. _I still have Papa...if he's alive. Does he know she died? Will he see..._ Her heart clenched and she started feeling sick. _Just one thought. One thought and I feel..._ Suddenly the stew that was in her stomach met the stew that was in her bowl. Her eyes started brimming with tears as the acidic contents made its way through her throat. Her face flushed with the heat of humiliation, not that the Marks' saw it as anything to be humiliated over.

The dry heaving came next as images of her mother in a casket swam across her mind. She was already in Mrs. Marks' arms by the time the tears were rolling down her cheeks, and her breathing had evened out when she had stepped into the soothing bath that Mrs. Marks drew her. Marilyn was numb as Mrs. Marks combed her wet blonde curls and whispered words of affection and encouragement in her ear. "I don't want to bury her," she said softly, unsure whether she wanted Mrs. Marks to hear her or not.

"I think...I think it'll bring you closure. It'll help to say goodbye," Mrs. Marks said unsurely as if she didn't know if what she was saying was the correct answer.

"I don't want to say goodbye," she said as tears beaded her eyes, "Why can't she come back?"

_That's a stupid question. You know why. Come on, you're not four._ Mrs. Marks stopped combing her hair and took her hand, leading her towards the bedroom she was staying in. Mr. Marks was already there making her bed. He softly smiled as the two of them walked in, "I put your blankets in the dryer so they'd be nice and warm when you got in."

When people do nice things for you and make you feel good, you're supposed to smile and say thank you. You're not supposed to cry. Which is why Marilyn found it so confusing when she started to softly cry. Mr. Marks looked to her and then his wife with a confused expression. Mrs. Marks placed her hands on her shoulders, "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

Marilyn shook her head and wiped her eyes. She couldn't _say_ what was wrong. _What **was** wrong? _Everything and nothing _. Mama's dead, I'm alone, I have to go to her funeral, and see people who didn't like her._ That's what's wrong, but that was not why she was crying. Nothing could help her know what it was. She just mumbled an "I dunno."

Mrs. Marks helped her climb into bed and rubbed her back with medium circles. Marilyn liked having her back rubbed. She wiggled her toes under the warm covers, and for some reason, all of this helped her calm down. Mr. Marks had left the room and had returned, but he was hiding something behind his back. "I have a gift, or it's actually something that already belongs to you. I thought you'd like it back."

"PAPA!" she smiled when he showed her the doll that had been hiding behind his back.

She ignored the Marks' confused looks as she reached out for him. "You're here," she whispered with a smile.

Mrs. Marks started singing a song about a daughter of a forty-niner, as Marilyn lost herself in her fantasies of her Papa. _The King hiked through the dangerous jungles, fought bandits and armies, and sailed through big storms. All so he could come back for his princess. **Me**. "I'm here now Marilyn. I won't leave you again."_

Marilyn wrapped her body around her pillow, pretending as if she was hugging her daddy. With that comforting thought, she fell fast asleep.


End file.
